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[omg sorry for the wait ;^;]
Eyes turned towards her, a multitude of colors swarming over her body like curious insects; she recalls the tickle of butterflies, the humming of bees. They studied her in the way that so many had before, as if disassembling every facet of her being and laying it out before them. She did the very same thing, and decided both of them needed to stop eating whatever it was that brigands ate: they were too tall and too fleshy and it made her feel vaguely uncomfortable. They lacked the slender lines of Mother and Father and her own limber lines; if they caught her (with all her childish certainty, she doubted they would), would they sit on her? Ears flicked back as she contemplated it—what a grisly demise that would be. What are you? Grey eyes asked, but before she could say anything clever to say, the taller one answered her question. His explanation was so ludicrous and inane it nearly made her sputter with laughter (and a little bit of fear, because what if he wanted to steal one of her eyes?), but she held it in for the sake of intimidation. The difference is that I didn't steal mine, she wanted to tell him, but something told her that brigands such as they would not grasp the finer points of logic. If you stole eyes, how could you see anything else? But before she could think of a sufficiently simple response, a thrill of unrest, of fear, of sinister intentions danced through over the ice above her head and through her body, and she felt afraid for the very first time. Did she imagine it? Did they do it? Her eyes passed quickly over their faces for an answer, but that glance told her that they did had seen it as well, and it was not of their doing. What are you? the lighter one, Reginald, asked once more accusingly, his voice permeating through the cool air with scorn. Was that all he could say? Did he think that she caused this unnamed danger? Run or vanquish? She'd always choose the latter. Biting back the indelible instinct to run , the filly regained her composure and held her ground and lowered her head with menace, though she trembled imperceptibly with fear, but they could not see that from their distance. She dragged in a breath and forced her eyes to darken with wicked mischief, hoping it would mask how truly unnerved she was by the shadow ordeal. "Who am I?" she said with a sinister flourish Papa would be proud of; a pause and a simper. "I am the Reaper's daughter." Opaque breath rose from her lips like the ghosts of all that had fallen before the peril of her father and his father and his father before, and like the souls of all she would slay, and maybe it included the two before her too. She readied herself for a backlash. and when you're gone, will they love you the same? |
